


Stories of the Second Self: Prints in the Snow

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [3]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Two park rangers follow footprints of someone they believe to be the subject of a missing persons report when the tracks stop suddenly.
Series: Alter Idem [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Prints in the Snow

"Hey, Dutch!" Carl shouts, "Check this out."

Running over, I see the prints... right where they stop. Out of reflex, I look around. "No trees, no ditches. There's not even a depression indicating she jumped off the ground."

"You notice anything else?" Carl asks.

It's a tone like he's quizzing me, and then I think about it. "Snow's blown about. Looks to be outward from the prints. I think someone's pranking us and pulled a helicopter pickup right here."

"Not enough displacement for that," Carl suggests, and switches sides in his mouth for chewing gum. "This is somethin' else."

"I've heard all the El Chupacabra stories," I gripe, "And even if they were real I doubt they could fuckin' fly."

"Ain'cha heard all them other stories back in town, Dutch?" Carl reminds, "People in the big cities turnin' into things."

"Bunch'a bullshit," I curse, "Might as well start in with the UFO shit."

"Maybe the rapture came and we're stuck." Carl was a believer after all.

"Isn't there supposed to be seven horns for that?" I reply, trying not to sound snarky.

Then she suddenly lands into view. About five foot, five, wavy brown hair and either Hispanic or American Indian skin tone. And while she's still wearing the same boots we've been following, she has her coat in her hand. The shirt on her is an usual style, bordering on being a poncho, but the reason makes sense when I realize she has wings coming through the sleeves along with her arms. The feathers are visible only by way of the fact they distort what is behind them, like crystal.

"Ah," I mutter dumbly, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, wouldn't I be?" she answers, noticing our park ranger coats, "Why are you following me?"

"We got a missing persons report for this area," Carl says, having recovered after me.

"They want miracles out of me," she says, "And despite what you think you see, I can't. These things just started growing, and a bunch of other changes happened. I'm not even all that religious."


End file.
